Thanks
On any given day I could make a list of all the things I'm grateful for... Robust health, lots of friends, books to read, a roof over my head, even a shiny car that's peacock blue!
I have to keep it all in mind because I have an unfortunate tendency to lean towards the dark side. As I walk through a sunny park enjoying the day a thought will occur to me that anything might happen at any moment. Someone might jump out from behind a tree and kill me! Or worse, I could run into someone I know and have to make small talk! It was suggested to me that I must get some benefit from these morbid flashes, but really, if there was an off-switch I would certainly flip it and be done. It must be molecular, or genetic, or my particular unchosen fate. Certain things alleviate this problem. Shopping helps. I've actually made a study of my internal state as I enter Target or Costco or anywhere a person might spend money. My shoulders will actually fall from around my ears where they had frozen, and my heartbeat slows, and my entire sense of possibility and hope in life brightens a little as I face aisles of crap to buy. Not that it's all worthless...or that I'm always wasting my money...there's food to buy and eat, and those purchases work just as well as socks and un-needed black sweaters. The eating helps, particularly anything that looks like bread, or pasta...yunno...starch. Call it carbohydrates, but what I'm looking for is the white stuff....the starch. Give me a squishy bagel from the grocery store and I can survive the day.
About eating and anxiety, we're diving into the 'holiday season', which intensifies the pre-existing gloom and tension. It's just beginning to get thick and nasty. I remember being with the family in New York and watching the drinkers get soused, as the teetotallers looked on with disgust. The parents were mad at each other and the kids were misbehaving and I would watch as every minute passed like an hour. I couldn't believe I shared even an ounce of DNA with any of them. And the food! My idea of hell is a large piece of animal flesh that's been roasting for 4 hours so it's brown and shriveled and dry, and bowls of vegetables that can only be identified by their (faded) color because they've been boiled and mashed and salted and buttered and creamed beyond recognition, and some of them are adorned with shards of deep-fried onion that you can watch sinking down into the wetness. There's purple jelly out of a can that goes 'thunk' as it slips onto the plate, and there's a 'boat' of gravy...fat and flour and salt is what it is. You're supposed to pour this atop everything to ensure your cardiac event when you get home. Oh, and desserts...orange pie and white stuff out of a tub...a petroleum product for sure.
Is this pilgrim food? No. Did everyone come together in this new America and break bread and become friends? No. Did it feel like freedom to face the hardships of pioneer life? Doubtful. Does my ennui date back all these generations to another time when someone could easily jump out from behind a tree and kill you? Maybe. What I have though, in spite of this moodiness and negativity is a gift. It's something I only become aware of from time to time, but it's huge. I have the gift of choice. Thinking about this makes me almost giddy when I consider the possibilities. I can go see a horror movie on Christmas! I can wear a sweatsuit or an evening gown to a party. I can eat sushi for breakfast. Some of these marks of freedom are due to living here in L.A. where anything seems to be acceptable, and nobody pays a bit of attention, particularly if you're over 30...no, make that 25. Plus, I can complain about all of it, get a lot of friends to agree, and then remain on my steady course of engaging in activities that look a lot like doing exactly what I want to at all times. This life has come about by design and also some luck. Events that seemed unfortunate have turned into assets. There was the marriage that dissolved, and jobs that were hated and abandoned, and living quarters where mice showed up to party. I've never had a problem walking away from anything. It takes very little for me to leave, for I always have the back door open and the car running.
So what is my plan for this impending day of eating? To really appreciate the possibilities I will make something with a sauce Veronique, simply because it's as far from turkey with stuffing that I can conjure. This sauce is really quite simple, but rich and unforgettable, and perfect over anything....maybe a piece of fish, or a tiny hen....nothing big and sad.
Sauce Veronique
3 tablespoons butter
½ cup finely diced yellow onion
½ cup finely diced celery
1 tablespoon all-purpose flour
1 cup chicken broth
½ cup heavy cream
1 teaspoon dried tarragon
1 teaspoon dijon mustard
pinch salt
pinch pepper
about 30 grapes, red or green, halved
In a heavy pan melt the butter and add onion and celery. Cook over medium flame, stirring, until translucent, about 5 minutes. Sprinkle flour atop sauteed vegetables, and stir until the flour cooks and is aromatic, which will take a few minutes. Add chicken broth and heavy cream and stir until sauce thickens, which should happen in about 3 or 4 minutes. Add tarragon, dijon, salt and pepper and stir for a minute. Add grapes and stir until heated through. This should be plenty of sauce for 4 people.
I've taken some liberties with the classic sauce Veronique, just because I can.